Embers
by dreamsunwind17
Summary: What if Remus was the one left without his other half? Post Deathly Hallows


A/N: Alternate universe with some romance (Remus/Tonks) and plenty of angst thrown in for good measure. This is my first fic, so no flames please, but constructive criticism is welcome!

He huddled in front of the fireplace, watching embers die into the blackened log. He remembered vaguely how they used to sit together, idly chatting about the latest deaths or crimes. Not exactly what one would call "idle"--but in those times, it had been.

His thought drifted, as they always did, to that night. She had been so brave, he remembered, she had been brilliant. But, apparently, not brilliant enough for Bellatrix's mad mission to rid her family of blood impurities.

He remembered sprinting through the endless passages of Hogwarts after he heard she'd left her mother's, calling her name desperately.

"She's on the grounds!" a harried voice had gasped near his ear. Hestia--she was frazzled-looking and plainly frightened, her wide eyes fixated on him. "She was duelling Bellatrix!"

_Bellatrix._ He felt the colour drain from his face. He stood there, dumbstruck, as activity whirled around him. Jets of light from stray curses fizzled past him, but he paid no mind. Bellatrix was after her blood, he knew, she would stop at nothing to get rid of "her sister's mangy half-blood brat."

A hard, blazing determination took him, the sort that only a real Gryffindor could manage. He ran faster than he ever thought he could, shoving through the throng of fighters, not caring who he toppled.

He broke free of the constraints of the castle and stumbled onto the grounds, great patches of dark blood marring the grass. His eyes, keen and uncannily wolfish, scanned the grounds. That's when he saw her, a only a few metres away, her wand drawn, her eyes fierce, nearly nose-to-nose with Bellatrix Lestrange. A sense of possessive pride swelled in his chest: that was _his _Nymphadora out there, fighting like a hero.

But the glorious feeling faded abruptly. Bellatrix cast a particularly well-aimed curse. Tonks barely ducked it, shooting a curse from the end of her own wand, which Bellatrix deflected like it was an irksome fly.

What happened next seemed to go almost in slow-motion for Remus. He heard Bellatrix's high, shrill voice shriek, _"Avada Kedavra!" _

Tonks was caught unawares. Her wand clattered out of her hand to the ground, her body followed, landing almost soundlessly at Bellatrix's feet. Bellatrix gave a satisfied smirk and walked away remorselessly.

_"No—Dora!" _he screamed, racing towards her. He knelt by her body, his head spinning, feeling sick to his stomach...

He grabbed her around her waist, searching her face for some of life, for some sign that his Tonks was still in there somewhere...somewhere.

But he knew he was being foolish; she would never look at him again, he would never see the ever-present glint of laughter in her eyes—she was gone. He leaned against her chest, sobbing horribly, feeling like he'd rather die than live without out her.

"You were so brave, love, I'm so proud of you," he whispered hoarsely. He had struggled to his feet, Tonks's slender body clutched in his arms. Beyond the despair, beyond the hopelessness, was a renewed sense of fury. How _dare_ they kill her? How dare they take her life so prematurely without even a second thought? At that moment, he was ready to do anything to avenge her—he would've killed anyone...and perhaps Arthur Weasley knew this, for Remus felt a hand grasp his elbow.

He glanced up at the face of Arthur, who looked stricken and ghostly pale. "Remus—leave her, don't do anything so rash," he said stonily.

_"Leave her?"_ he screamed, wild-eyed. "You want me to just leave her here?"

"No, see," he raised a trembling wand and pointed it at Tonks's body, and muttered an incantation. The body levitated in the air, and disappeared. "She's in the castle now."

Remus stood very still, staring at the place where Tonks had been slain. He said nothing. He couldn't—how could he begin to express how he himself was slowing decaying inside, how desolate he felt, how—?

Remus became acutely aware of a sharp noise coming from another room. He tore his eyes away from the long-dead fire, and lifted his head toward the direction of the noise. Loud, squealing cries echoed from a bedroom. The baby needed him.


End file.
